We Who Stand Proud
Bridge : The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform, which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, providing an even illumination across the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the functional and utilitarian space. A few steps down, the bridge workstations are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the shark nosed form of the ship's bow. Two stations face forward and are centered beneath the main canopy. The other two workstations face the port and starboard, one on each side of the bridge. The space is tight, with arely enough room to move when all the stations are occupied. ----- You've just been hit. The bridge is a mess. Consoles are split apart, with electrical cord and metal sticking out -- the spilled bowels of a technological body. Sparks fly in every direction, vanishing at the touch of the ground or the cold, lifeless skin of crew corpses strewn about after the assault. The captain and his executive officer are both dead, the former still sitting proudly on the command chair, almost as if willing the Nadyezchda to action from beyond the grave. The crew members still alive after the main volley of shots have been gathered here. Navigational systems are down. Weapon systems are down. Life support is gradually failing. The viewscreen shows the last of the refugee ships evacuating Youngster, your beautiful home planet. The Clawed Fist Fleet advances, hungry for conquest. Most of your comrade vessels have perished, but some, much like yours, still remain. It is a terrible battle and all odds are against you. Rank does not matter. Position does not matter. This is the eye of the storm and it rages with uncanny fury. As the ship bucks, Second Lieutenant Anya Rathgard is literally flung off of her feet, tumbling backward in an awkward, graceless arc and slamming into the bulkhead just starboard of the aft hatchway. She comes down in a crumpled heap, desperately trying to maintain balance on the rocking deck beneath her. Blood runs in a red dribble from one corner of her mouth; she wipes it with the back of her hand. "Welll." Sasha rolls out the word, eyes narrowing as she stares up at the vivisected consoles from her position on the floor. It's easy to not fall down when you're already down, after all. "It has been a pleasure serving with all of you. I hope you are ready to die in a properly disciplined fashion like good soldiers, preferably among a pile of the bodies of our enemies." Hacking and coughing, Levitsky crawls out from the bowels of one of the console banks lining the bridge. He disentangles himself from a thick web of wiring, rolls onto his stomach, and props himself up with a wince. "That does it," the engineer growls, sticking a bent stogie between his cracked lips and sucking down nicotine as though there were no tomorrow. Which, in his case, is probably true. The squat Ungstiri kicks a nearby corpses over, a marine still smoking from the horrific burns covering one whole side of his body, and bends down to retrieve his fallen comrade's battle rifle. "You won't be needing this no more." Dmitri staggers through the smoke-filled bridge, coughing as he goes to the nav console. "Hoop! Seems everything's shot to hell and back. I can not raise Engineering. Or the other sections, come to that. Hooping midget dinosaur suitcases!" He takes out a battered pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket, takes a cigarette out and lights up. "Ok, that's it! I'm getting me a rifle and take at least one of those bastards out before I head into the dark, yes?" One of the few remaining consoles comes to life blinking with urgency. A Nall Prowler vessel has attached itself to the hull, which is now being breached. Several life signs are displayed within, no doubt trying to gain access to the ship. The Nadyezchda's mainframe holds security codes that will allow the deactivation of important Youngster defense mechanisms. If the Nall obtain them... The viewscreen continues to flash with the colors of explosions as the battle in space pushes on. "Da," Anya agrees, nodding Levitsky's way as soon as she is able to see straight. She clambers to her feet and sniffs, before spitting a great gob of bloody phlegm onto the deck and stalking Sasha's way. "On your feet, tovarisch," she offers, extending a hand down to the woman. "Have blood to spill." "Da." Sasha takes the hand though relies little on it, climbing to her feet with a winded groan but little actual difficulty. She swipes the rifle off her back, glancing to that console. "If we cannot stop them... We need to blow our hooping computers before they get a hold of anything. Even if it kills life support- though that should be apparent." An almost pleased smile curls her lips, though it's grim. "It will be a stand to remember us for." Dmitri manages to grab ahold of a battlerifle, then looks up just in time to notice the console's warning. "Speak of the little devils..looks like they're boarding now, probably to get at the ship's computer and the codes to Younger's defenses. Helped put a couple of those codes in myself. The little dinos get those, everyone left on Youngster's basically hooped!" Dmitri coughs and checks for a moment to see if his rifle is charged and ready to shoot, then adds: "Well, I was hoping to live forever, but no such luck. Story of my life..hells, of *all* our lives right now." To Sasha, he says: "Damn right, although, right now life support's pretty screwed as it is." And to all left alive in the bridge: "Let's go, komrades! You want to live forever?!" Levitsky squats down behind one of the command stations, propping his rifle on the console's face and training it on the entrance. He continues to take deep drags of his cigar, twin tendrils of pungent smoke rising from his nostrils. Scans now show the life signs advancing down the hallway, slowly but surely, towards the bridge. In the distance, almost in defiance of all the other noise, some might even hear the footsteps of these doomsday soldiers on their approach. The door leading in has been sealed, but it might be hard to truly assess its resilience. A colorful litany of obscenities serves as Anya's requiem. Slinging her own rifle from her shoulder, she throws the switch with a jerk of one hand and stations herself behind the slagged remains of fire control, the steady whirr of the building charge voicing her intentions more than any words ever could. Sasha follows suit, a quick flick charging the rifle. She circles around to the other side of the bridge, though, wedging her stout form into place behind some other lump of slag that was once crucial to their survival. "Be prepared. We surrender nothing," she hisses around the room, eyes glued to that door. Levitsky tilts his weapon and peers at a digital readout set just above the energy cell. He mutters a few choice words beneath his breath, then shifts his eye to regard Dmitri. "No," he snarls hoarsely from the corner of his mouth, "I don't want to live forever. Rather die in bed with a gut full of beer and a woman in each arm. Guess scaleback talons will have to do, eh?" There is a bang on the bridge door. It is followed by another and then a third. "Sssssoftssssskinssss," an almost lulling voice says from beyond the welded metal, "open in the name of the Goddessss. Your sssssurrender will be met with Nalia'ssss merssssy and mossst of you will enjoy the honor of sssserving the Empire." Dmitri has turned his rifle on already and it is almost fully charged. While that's happening, he heads over to the command chair. He briefly places a hand on the corpse already sitting there. "Sorry about this, Kapitan. I have to use you and your chair as a shield, yes?" And then he slips behind the chair, aiming his rifle over at the door. He glances over at Levitsky with a smile. "Hah! You and me both, komrade! I'm ready to get.." And then there's a bang on the door. With a nasty smile, Dmitri asks. "Well well, guess who is coming to dinner?" He calls out to the Nall: "Screw you, you little hooping reptiles! I'd rather die standing than live on my knees! Oh, and if you want to come in here..work for it, midgets!" Dmitri gives a short mocking laugh after he says this. Eyes narrowing at the serpentine voices in the outside corridor, Anya shifts her weight, couching her weapon more comfortably. She sends a look askance to Dimitri, then to Levitsky, though it's the latter she addresses. "Kiss the one who kills you," she suggests, "and drink his blood." "But he wants two, the greedy bastard," Sasha laughs shortly, her gaze unswerving from its single-minded focus. "Tell you what. If by some hooping miracle we live, I will let you touch my breasts, but I doubt you can keep up! Now. Though. Now it is time for the fighting." Her rifle is settled at the ready, finger barely caressing the trigger. Levitsky flashes a grin over his shoulder, eyeing both officers in a way that would probably earn him latrine duty for a month if not for present circumstances. "Maybe I'll get my wish yet, eh?" The engineer snaps his attention back to the door, a thick, stubby finger flexing over the trigger of his firearm. "Insssssssssolence! We who are chosssssen by the Goddesssss will not lissssten to lesssser ssssslavessss," the Nall counters, followed by several softer hisses. He is clearly not alone. There is silence from that side for a few moments and then the rim of the sealed door begins to glow, first scarlet than argent. It begins to shake, each time more easily giving in to whatever strain its being put through. "Spakoyniy nochyee, mi tovarisches," Anya bids her brothers-in-arms solemnly. Dmitri sneers and quietly laughs. To Sasha he says, "If he can't, I know I can! Always had the hots for you, as the Earth saying goes, yes? And if not now, in the next life, eh?" And to Anya: "And if not Sasha? You and me, Friday night, da?" And he turns back to the door, rifle aimed in that direction. "Sorry, first: I'm a *free* man, *not* a slave, and second: even if I wind up a slave, it would be to those who are taller than me, which you sorry lizards aren't. If anything, you'd be *my* slaves, since I can use your heads as a hooping armrest!" He notices the door starting to glow and then melting. He calls out mocking: "Oh, come on, you have to *want* it, I can't want it for you! Work for it, you handbaggies!" To Anya: "And to you, zexy komrade!" He gives her a brief leer, then back to waiting for the Nall to come in. Sasha does look back at that, to stare disbelievingly at Dmitri for a moment. "I always thought you were actually gay, for all the posturing," she mutters, but soon leaves behind all other concerns to mind her gun and that door. "Remember... if we start going down... we -must destroy it-. Stay strong!" Brow furrowed, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, all trace of humor or goodwill are now stripped from Levitsky. Shallow breathing and an ever-expanding halo of smoke are all that indicate life. He waits silent and expectant as the nall gradually breach the only barrier between him and an almost certain death. It finally gives in. The metal door falls down with a loud clatter and in march the reptilian creatures known as the Nall. The squadron of four is armed with rifles. They begin to move in, taking cover position where available. And yet... they do not fire, though the weapons are held at the ready. "Sssssurrender, ssssoftsssskinsss!" "Will consider it," Anya calls to the conquerors, pitching her voice to carry across the smoky bridge, "when I am burning in hell!" And it begins. Sighting the nearest opponent, she rises just long enough to punch out a pulse blast, shooting to kill. Dmitri turns to Sasha and laughs as he smirks. "Nyet, always liked the deyvatchkas, so now you know different, da?" As he looks back to the door and hears Sasha's comment, he replies: "Don't need to tell me twice! I always preferred the old 'scorched earth' method used in Rodina back on Earth. Make the enemy pay in blood for what they take and what they take, make worthless!" And with that, the door falls and the Nall enter the bridge. He mockingly calls out to the invaders. "Hey, the dinner guests have come!" And as the Nall call for surrender, he replies angrily: "Nuts to you, you little hoopers! I told you, you want this ship, you have to *work* for it, yes? Now come on over and say 'hi' to my little friend!" Dmitri aims his own rifle over at the Nall in his own sight and pulls the trigger, sending out a hopefully killing blast. Sasha joins the parade of racing shots, leaning out from her cover to take a third Nall, after quickly assessing the lines of Anya and Dmitri's shots. She says nothing, perhaps relying on the utter contempt in her haughty face to convey all her thoughts for her- that and the rifle's blast. Levitsky peers down the site of his rifle as the nall enter, one eye pinched shut. He doesn't offer a clever remark, nor even a hate-filled diatribe. No. The ungistiri is silent, only his dark countenance serving to convey the broiling jumble of emotion which he fails to vocalize. With a tug of the trigger he joins his companions, laser fire arcing across the bridge. The leader of the Nall squadron allows his jaw to drop, a slight hiss escaping his mouth. This is not a gesture of surprise. "Foolish ssssoftsssskinssss," he states before the volley of shots manage to bring one of his down. Almost in unison and with dazzling speed, the reptiloids counter with fire of their own. Safe -- she hopes -- behind the remains of the ruined weapons terminal, Anya hugs her recharging rifle to her chest and ducks her head under the incoming fire, a spill of raven-black hair curtaining her pale face. Dmitri drops quickly down behind as the suitcases shoot back. One shot appears to hit the sitting kapitan, killing him. Or at least it would have if he were alive at the time. He quietly curses in Mierznykovy and waits for a moment as the rifle recharges. He calls out again. "Not too shabby! But I still sense you're holding back! Tell you what: come a little closer to me, make sure you're standing absolut still, and I'll shoot your damn heads off! How is that for a deal, eh?" Levitsky pops his head down just as a deadly beam splashes against a nearby wall. He takes a roll to his left and lands flat on his stomach, the barrel of his rifle flashing red as he continues pouring his own deadly fire into the aggressive lizards. A piercing cry escapes Sasha as she doesn't get behind cover in time, a flower of blood welling up dark on her left shoulder. Breath ragged with the pain of it, she reels for a moment before she steadies her hands on the rifle. Time for another barrage, muzzle flashing, the deadly light-show aiming to return fire at the one that hit her. The wounded Nall has no time to react. Levitsky's shot connects with the chest and rips through the already weakened armor, exposing scorched scaled skin. Sasha's successful blast penetrates directly. The wall behind the reptiloid is covered with thick blood moments before he falls, motionless. The remaining three assailants begin to discuss something in their natural and sharp language. "Ssssoftssskinsss, it ssssseemsss you will be exsssstended a greater honor than you desssserve." They lift their rifles and open fire, though they have begun to retreat towards the exit. Dmitri pops back up and sees the Nall retreating. "Lazy slackers! Guess you don't want it after all! No soup or dessert for you! Oh and by the way..give our regards to the Lollipop Guild, you damn munchkins!" And with that, he sends a parting rifle shot at the lizards, hoping to hit one of them this time. Another round sails past Levitsky, narrowly missing his prone form. He hauls himself up on one knee, a grimace betraying the twinge in his back, and jams the rifle against his shoulder. "Cowards," the gruff engineer snarls through clenched teeth, "they can't stand and face us, so they'll just slag the whole ship instead." He adds his fire to Dimitri's, hoping to cut down another of the scalebacks before they're out of sight. Sasha faceplants to avoid the shot sent her way, shrugging back up in time with an animalistic growl to fire off a last potshot in nigh-unison with the others. She leaves behind a smear of blood, sagging against the console. "-Let- them," the woman hisses, eyes afire. "Let them blow us all to pieces. I will be satisfied with that." Sasha's excellent marksmanship nails a second Nall in the back of the head. The head explodes in a feast of brains and gore. Between Levitsky and Dmitri, they manage to wound a third, who falls down on the hall just outside. The fourth wastes no time, not for his allies nor for a chance glance back. It is at this time that the communication system comes to life. The message is going out on all frequencies: "Sssssoftsssskinssss, your ressssisssstance is admirable. If you will not join the Empire willingly, then asss proud warriorsssss you are, we shall exssstend you the Goddessss Nalia'sss merssssy." On the viewscreen, the invading fleet appears to have ceased their main assault wave, with most vessels retreating behind the mother ship - a beast of impressive size with a large forward hatch now opening to reveal what looks like a new kind of missile, something never quite seen before. It protrudes from the front, waiting like a predator. "If Youngsssster will not sssssubmit, then Youngssssster shall be no more." "Nyet!" Sasha shrieks, propping herself up on the rifle. "Surrender will not save us- will not save anyone- but we must stop that missile!" She looks around the bridge almost wildly, gaze roaming in search of any systems that might still be operational on the crippled ship. Levitsky rises grimly as the last nall disappears down the passage, and he turns to face the viewscreen. What he sees causes his flesh to turn pale and the rifle to slip from his grasp, clattering on the deckplates beneath his feet. "It's... my god... it isn't the ship they intend on slagging." Crackling electronics are the only thing available to Sasha's determination. The com is still alive, now with chatter between ships and with the planet. Some of it is threats, some of it insults, some of it instructions -- but one thing remains true: not a trace of fear is heard in any of the voices. From the front of the Nall mothership, the unusual missile is expelled forward with no further warnings. It glides across the cosmos, unhindered by friendly fire. Like the finger of an ancient god, it vanishes into the Youngster atmosphere. Nothing happens for a few seconds and then, from the point of contact, crimson tendrils of fire begin to spread out across the planet surface, splitting an entire world from the very depths of its core. Sasha slams an impotent fist down onto the console before her, again and again, blinding hot tears rising in her eyes. "Bastards, worthless bastards!" she screams, voice vicious with hate and passion. "Nyet. NYET!" Levitsky approaches the viewscreen slowly, his eyes widening as the nall coreseeker disapears from view, soon to be followed by the death throes of a planet. His cigar, now burned down to little more than a black stump, tumbles from the engineer's mouth. "Nadyezchda," comes another private call, now from the last of the refugee ships. The viewscreen shows it has reached the jump point. "We are departing. We are not lost. As people, we remain. You will be remembered," the voice promises. "Thank you, comrades." Youngster's indigo and green hues have been replaced by the darkness of a thick cloud, with only flashes from the fiery cracks visible beneath the foggy cover. The glowing sections intensify and spread within seconds. Sasha draws ragged, broken breaths made unstable by both pain and her tears, staring at the sight of the planet's destruction. "Kill our homeland," she whispers, though still in tones poisoned by hate, "but never the soul of Youngster. Never our heart. Never our people." "Gospadi," is all Anya can say at first, taking a single step backward. Somehow, she finds her voice, her breath, but is unable to tear her watering eyes away from the sight. If she hears the words over the comm, she gives no indication. "Da svidaniya, Youngster." Levitsky, out of habit, grinds the cigar out with the heel of his boot before dropping into a chair by one of the nav consoles. His fist clenches and unclenches in mute rage, a rage he cannot possibly hope to voice. In space, there is only silence. Even through the communication system not a sound can be heard. Yet the lights on the panel are still active. Those who fought for their home are down there, still alive. They simply refuse to speak. Perhaps they do not do so out of dread or panic; perhaps they are muted by horror; or maybe, just maybe, even in the face of impending doom... the men and women of Youngster stand proud to the last second. There is a flash of light as the last escaping vessel jumps away. The Nall have retreated with systematic speed. Youngster trembles: as stubborn as its people, it fights against the odds and then gives out, exploding from within and shattering into millions of pieces. The shockwave reaches out, eager to swallow and consume. One by one, the ships that stayed behind are taken and soon it will be your turn. Sasha ignores all else, drawing herself upright to a posture of perfect military attention. The rifle is replaced on her back- a bloodstained rises, snapping upward in a single practiced motion, to salute the planet in its raging death throes. "Da svidanya, Youngster," she echoes Anya, jaw set and chin lifted with pride. "Spaciba, my comrades," the Rathgard goes on, chin held high, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Has been... h-has been an honor to call you my brothers." Levitsky reaches into a breast pocket and produces a silver flask. With hands shaking more from anger than fear, he lifts the vessel in salute, then takes his last swallow. April 2, 2257. "One that day, the Nadyezchda - a ship among many - was tasked with the security and survival of refugees escaping the Nall invasion. The ship and its crew succeeded. In the process, they lost their home, but not their spirit. "Nadyezchda. It means hope. For a brief a moment, Hope burned brightest just as the shockwave of the shattered planet consumed it. Those who were there will always be remembered. Perhaps this stands as a testament, not only that even against all odds we can still prevail... but also that even when Hope is lost, it remains with us -- in the hearts and minds of we, who against all adversity, will forever stand proud." '-From the diary Yuri Landsky, Historian. September 23, 3007. (Recovered from the wreckage of a ship after the Phyrrian attack on Perseverance System.)' Category:Logs